


One Time, One Meeting

by shimzus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, High School, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-12-13 19:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimzus/pseuds/shimzus
Summary: “Ichi-go, ichi-e” is a common four-character idiom often posted in Japanese tea houses. It translates to “one time, one meeting,” and refers to a highly treasured meeting or experience – a once-in-a-lifetime moment.A retelling of their high school life together, with extreme pining, tasteful slow burn, and complete obliviousness for an unfortunate long amount of time. The story is meant to illustrate the struggle of growing up, falling in love, and discovering one’s self – all in that precious high school life that one should never forget. This fic is a bit self-indulgent, but we all could’ve predicted that.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song "100㎡ no nakade" [inside 100 square meters] by yourness. This is a great Japanese band and I'll probably be using more of their songs as inspiration for chapters/scenes.

“Ah, excuse me…” the voice made her turn, unexpectedly meeting with another student. 

He stands meekly, arms close to the body and his head bent at a sheepish angle, as if he was apologetic for having called out to her. But despite his posture and the look on his face that makes him out to be nervous, Kiyoko thinks he looks determined. Perhaps it’s the way he clenches his fists and stands his ground, even though his face may betray him. Or it may be his eyes, drilling into her own with an unspoken purpose. Obviously, he had meant to call out to her after all, but for some reason she doesn’t really expect it to be a confession. After all, she doesn’t recognize the student by his appearance, and doesn’t think she’s given anyone a reason to confess to her so early in the year. 

He would be taller if he wasn’t awkwardly dropping his shoulders, she notes. He had cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and warm, deep toned skin. He might be popular for his looks, but she wouldn’t know, given that gossip isn’t something she necessarily prefers to listen into. Although it’s only been a few weeks since the new school year had started, and Kiyoko was still adjusting to high school, she hadn’t made many friends to talk to. What little she heard about other students was typically during their lunch breaks in the classroom, when she would quietly eat her lunch and try to read a book or study. The other girls in the class had befriended one another rather quickly, and chatted and teased each other daily, but Kiyoko never participated. 

“Yes?” she asked in a quiet voice, her expression masking any semblance of curiosity or confusion she might have otherwise shown. 

“Um… is it… Shimizu-san?”

She nodded.

“I’m Sawamura, from Class 4,” he explained, and she watched him fish into his bag for something. It was a sheet of paper, which he held close, forcing her to strain her eyes to see. “I just joined the boys’ volleyball team, and well, we don’t have a manager…”

Kiyoko remained silent, her mind working in secret. She hadn’t known that there was a boys’ volleyball club at Karasuno. Briefly, during the first week of classes she had taken a look at the sports offered, if only to see the familiar sight of a track and field team, but she hadn’t signed up. After middle school, Kiyoko had decided that she wouldn’t participate in a sport again – high school would bring with it more homework and responsibilities. Running competitively again wasn’t something she thought she could devote her time towards anymore. 

“I’ve asked around, and we can’t really get anybody to sign up,” Sawamura explained, clutching the slightly crinkled paper tightly in his hands. almost protectively. “Would you be willing? I-it’s really easy, I promise. I mean, I think…”

Kiyoko dropped her eyes quietly, staring at the space between their feet, and said, “I’m sorry… no thank you.”

In another time, maybe she would have said yes. Ever so the shy student, though, Kiyoko doesn’t jump into the unknown very often. She barely knew anything about volleyball, much less how different girls’ volleyball might be from boys’. It simply wasn’t a good fit, she thought. Perhaps if she had played volleyball in middle school instead of track, it might have been an easier transition, and she might have signed her name on his little sheet of paper. But given the circumstances – her lack of knowledge, and the decision she had already made to focus more on her studies that on sports – this would be the best for her.

“That’s alright,” Sawamura chuckled. “I’ll keep asking.”

Kiyoko bowed to him politely to excuse herself, and he followed suit with his own. There was a silent farewell between them, and each parted to go their own way. Kiyoko, turning to look once more over her shoulder at the student passing down the first year hallway, couldn’t help but to feel a twinge of remorse. Despite knowing that she had probably made the best decision in refusing the offer, she couldn’t help but to worry that maybe she had upset him. He probably had asked other people, and they all might have said no for the same reasons she did. 

Although his voice suggested that the dismissal didn’t hurt him, she wasn’t sure. She hoped that if it did, she wouldn’t have to see him again and potentially make him feel even worse. Luckily, they weren’t in the same class, so she hadn’t had to worry about that. 

From the hallway, Kiyoko quickly slid the door to the classroom open, her eyes trained to the floor, and found her seat. Modern Japanese literature was their next class – a subject which she enjoyed in comparison to the rest, because it meant that she had an excuse to read more – but she could tell the sentiment was not shared by her classmates. As she slipped quietly into her seat, she could hear them complaining about the most recent reading and reflection assignment. 

She smiled when they said it was too traditional and stuffy for them, and flipped the book open for herself, reviewing the notes she had neatly written in the margins. Class would begin soon, and she had a few questions to ask.

…

The day had passed by faster than usual, it felt. High school was still fresh and new for many of the first years, who Kiyoko had caught napping and loosening their school uniforms throughout the day. When the bell rang to signal the end of the day, they shot from their desks, kicked off their indoor shoes and sprinted out the doors back home again. Likely, they would do their homework diligently, since it was still too early in the year to slack, but they certainly wouldn’t enjoy it. 

In comparison, Kiyoko liked to take her time after class. She would always make a mental list of the things she needed to transport home from the inside of her desk: which textbooks should she bring, and which subject folders were associated with the homework she had been assigned? By the time most of her class had cleared from their room, Kiyoko was still behind, slipping folders and notebooks into her bag gingerly, as if rushing would injure them. 

It was calm now, and something in her felt light. Never the type of person to become too emotional, Kiyoko still considered herself a sentimental person. Middle school had been a different place and a different time, but this was the start of her high school life. Quiet moments like these would probably be what she remembered most. The fondness of her books, the layout of the room, the desire to daydream out the classroom windows, and the feeling of growing up as a high schooler would all remain with her after graduation. 

As she zipped the bag and pulled it to her shoulder, she would take one last selfish glance at the classroom. Quiet and clean, it was going to become a familiar sight to her, and even though it was still just a school, Kiyoko smiled at it. In a way, it was already close to her.

She slipped on her shoes at the school entrance and began to leave the grounds, but a loud slamming sound stopped and made her jump before she could take her next step.

It was an unknown kind of slam, not like a door being shut or someone being pushed, but like a ricochet sound – clear and crisp as it travelled again and again to her waiting ears. She heard squeaking, too – the sound of sneakers against gym floors, like when she used to run laps in middle school. The sounds melded together, a bustle of activity and a flurry of voices shouting encouragements and commends. Then, a clear male voice sounded out, and Kiyoko thought she could hear it calling “Sawamura!”

She had almost forgotten the student who had approached her during their morning break, but when the name was called she could faintly remember him. Whether it was her curiosity, a subconscious need to remind herself of what the student had looked like, or a mistake, Kiyoko could not be certain. Her feet carried her forward, beyond her own realization until she was at the door to the gym, peeking around the corner for a look inside.

There was a bustle and energy that hit her like a wave. For a moment, Kiyoko felt as though she needed to take a step back to readjust. She felt her eyes widen and her cheeks burn, embarrassed to be spying but more so surprised by the sheer power inside. A net was raised in the middle of the floor, and players in gym clothes wearing kneepads were jumping and diving, hitting soft balls across the length of the inside. Each hit delivered that signature sound, as it smacked against a palm and flew into the ground with a speed and a slam that seemed to shake the walls. Those that dove did so fearlessly, scuffing themselves up and sometimes toppling over, but each time making the effort to catch the ball before it could hit the ground. 

And somewhere along the wall, she spotted the student from before: the “Sawamura” whose name she had heard called out before. He didn’t look quite the same as she had remembered, albeit her memory of such a brief meeting didn’t do much good for her. Kiyoko did notice, however, that the air about him was different. Whereas Sawamura had been anxious and apologetic with her before, now he seemed more sure of himself and much more confident. He stood tall, catching the ball thrown at him with ease and with a warm smile that suggested he was enjoying himself.

He wasn’t in the middle of what Kiyoko assumed to be a practice game between the upperclassmen. Instead, her eyes lingered on him as he began tossing the ball against the wall and diving to catch it before it could fall. He repeated this multiple times, varying the strength, angle, and position with which he threw the ball against the wall. Each time, it would fall differently, and he would work to save it. Sometimes, he couldn’t catch it in time and it would hit the floor with a thud. He never seemed discouraged by the result; instead, he would pick it up and try once more, looking more self-assured than before. 

Kiyoko wasn’t sure how long she had watched them practice, her eyes constantly drifting from player to player and scene to scene. While others were doing similar drills to Sawamura, some were throwing the balls and others would hit them over the net. Some would even throw the ball in the air themselves and hit it far across the court, above and over the net. It was easily distracting: with such little knowledge of the sport everything seemed new and interesting. It wasn’t until one of the players, presumably their captain, called them in and began addressing them specifically with pointers on form and movement that Kiyoko realized she had been standing outside and watching for far too long.

She peeled herself from the doorframe, flexing the fingers that had managed to fall asleep as they were curled against the door, and blinked the stupor from her wide eyes. To herself, she shook her head, closed her eyes tightly, and turned from the gym at a fast pace. If she looked at her watch, she worried she might frighten herself with the time she had already spent here. Her parents were waiting, after all, and it might not reflect well on her to arrive home later than she usually did. 

…

After Kiyoko had prepared herself for bed, with dinner and a shower to refresh herself, she strangely rejected the book that she would typically read in bed to fall asleep. She had changed into her pajamas and slid herself under the covers of her bed, but reaching for the book on her nightstand was not the first thought in her mind. She did try, but as soon as the tip of her finger had touched the book’s spine, Kiyoko paused, and pulled her hand back. She didn’t feel like reading tonight.

Instead, she sought her phone, and after unlocking it, found herself typing “volleyball” with nimble fingers. The search engine stalled for a moment, but when it brought her the results of her search, Kiyoko felt a bit overwhelmed. There were blogs, videos, news articles, photos, and more all dedicated to the sport. She clicked on a few, browsing the ones that had the most interesting titles and descriptions. There were posts about national teams, even the Japanese and Brazilian ones, video highlights of certain matches, and pages for local volleyball organizations. Apparently, beyond high schools, universities, and the national team, there was still an interest in the sport. Neighborhoods played together, and some even had small fan clubs. Beyond those that played, it seemed that there was a significant space for those who merely preferred to watch and to critique. A number of times, Kiyoko could find online message boards commenting on recent matches, although she didn’t understand much of what she read about their form or attack sequences.

She continued to peer at her phone screen through the darkness of her room, squinting her eyes to focus until yet again she realized time had gotten the better of her. Hours must have passed during her search, although it had only felt like she just sat down in bed ten minutes ago. It wasn’t a very healthy decision, despite how much more she was able to find to satiate her wondering.

She forced herself to set the phone aside, face down on the bedside table so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at it again. She slipped further beneath her blankets and made herself close her eyes. But until she fell asleep, her thoughts continued to replay. All that she had seen in one day was, admittedly, a bit overwhelming and she still wasn’t sure what to think of it. There was little she knew, and even less that she felt she had discovered. If she had spent more time on her phone, against her better judgment, Kiyoko thought she might find even more about the sport. She was no expert in volleyball, but it had undeniably piqued her attention. 

As she drifted to sleep, she worried about tomorrow.

…

The next day she was able to find Sawamura quite quickly. He was where he had been the day before, standing awkwardly in the hallway, approaching different groups of girls with the crinkled paper tight in his hands. As Kiyoko stepped her way past others, her eyes trained on the student who was by now easily identifiable to her, she watched another pair of girls raise their hands and shake their heads in dismissal. Sawamura huffed, and she watched his shoulders slip a bit further.

When she tapped him lightly on the back, he raised them back up again and turned to her with a surprising amount of speed. For a moment, Kiyoko was surprised and let her mouth open in shock, before her eyes could readjust to make contact with his own and she felt herself mirror him in relaxing a bit. Perhaps she had frightened him so soon after he was talking to another, and it made him respond too instinctively.

“Sawamura-san,” Kiyoko tried carefully, looking up to him with focused eyes.

“A-ah, Shimizu-san, it’s you again,” He responded with a bow of his head and a smile, although she could tell he was surprised to see her again. He must be wondering why, after she had already told him no thank you.

Kiyoko nodded to confirm, and allowed her eyes to follow the line of his arm down to the paper he held in his hand. She pursed her lips carefully, thinking about her words before she asked, “Are you still looking for a manager for the boys’ volleyball team?”

Sawamura grew red from his cheeks to his ears, and instantly his hand flew to rub the back of his neck. “Um, yeah… I still haven’t been able to find anyone who’s interested… Shimizu-san, do you—”

“I’d like to apply,” she filled in.

Kiyoko watched him fumble a bit for words, obviously at a loss for any to respond to her with. But patiently, she waited, as Sawamura fidgeted over himself, and finally resolved to pass her the paper directly.

She took it with two hands, as was polite, and raised it higher to read. Only a brief moment passed for her to skim the paper. It was about the same as a player application, although the responsibilities were listed for the manager, and it didn’t require any sort of explanation for interest in the position. The paper was simply worded and easy to understand, and only required her to fill in some minor contact details, sign, and date. 

“I’ve never been a manager before,” she said, feeling as though it would probably be necessary for her to admit as much before she could even sign. She had thought about it all morning during her classes, playing out in her head what it might be like to find Sawamura again and ask if he would still consider her for the role. She worried he might not, given how she had said no before, and he might decline her again if he knew she had no experience. 

“That’s alright!” Sawamura leaned forward a bit, his face trying to look encouraging. “Actually, the team didn’t have one this year, and I’m not sure the third years have ever had one before, so it wouldn’t be a very stressful position. We’re used to doing a lot on our own already.”

“Ah,” was all Kiyoko could say, her eyes switching from the paper to Sawamura and back again. This might be a new experience for everyone, in that case, and she wouldn’t have to risk much if they weren’t used to a manager. The more Sawamura seemed to urge in his own way, the less doubts Kiyoko found herself retaining. Suddenly, the barrier to becoming a manager felt like nothing more than a mere line drawn in the sand. She had debated with herself whether or not to approach him, and even after she had said that she’d like to apply there was still a flicker of restraint that held her back, as if maybe it hadn’t been the right decision to make after all. But the more he seemed to smile, the less her concerns burdened her, and she started to think that maybe she could help. “Do you have a pencil so I can sign?”

Sawamura dug into his bag again and pulled out a mechanical pencil, clicking the tip a few times to make sure that there was enough lead for her to write with. He handed it to her silently, and watched as she pressed the paper against the wall to fill out the information and sign it.

“Shimizu-san, thank you so much, really,” then and there, he bowed low. 

Kiyoko noticed others in the hallway begin to turn their heads with puzzled looks on their faces, wondering if there was already some sort of love confession happening this early into the year. It was something her classmates liked to discuss often. Apparently, confessions were the epitome of the high school experience, and all of the girls were hoping that they would be able to witness one, or try one themselves. With that thought in mind, Kiyoko felt herself flush pink in the cheeks. A few girls had already turned to face the sight of them, giggling behind their hands and subconsciously leaning forward to the sight. Kiyoko worried that she had heard one of them comment something about the match, and feeling embarrassed by the whispers, she quickly tapped Sawamura on the shoulder to urge him to rise again.

“That’s not necessary…” she shook her hands back and forth to diffuse the thanks. “It’s… well, you said the team needed a manger…”

“That’s true,” Sawamura’s lips split with a smile. “Do—would it be alright with your schedule if you could come by the gym after school today? I’m sure the team would appreciate meeting you soon.”

Kiyoko thought for a moment, her eyebrows drawing together in a thin-knit line. “Well, I have to bring this up to my parents, so I don’t want to go home too late when they aren’t expecting it.”

“I understand.”

“But I can introduce myself quickly,” she offered, searching his eyes for a confirmation. 

He clapped his hands together, sending a loud sound down the hallway, “That’d be great, if you could! We’re in Gym B, right after class! I can come and walk you if you want.”

“I think I can find it on my own,” Kiyoko gave a polite nod and a hint of a smile. There was no need for an escort, especially if he was a player and needed to come to practice in his gym outfit on-time. She wouldn’t have him risk running a bit late just to help her to the gym. Even if she hadn’t stumbled upon the gym yesterday after her class, she still would have been able to find it on her own. The high school campus wasn’t so large as to lose one’s self in, and if yesterday’s sounds had been enough of a hint, Kiyoko figured that she might be able to find them by the sound of their practice.

…

Surely enough, she did. The same distinct sounds as yesterday were what drew her towards the gym, feeling uncertain of herself. Although watching was one thing – and indeed she had watched and lost herself in them for some time – actually going to meet those players and act as their manager was something entirely different. Kiyoko worried what she might say, and if she should have committed so soon. 

As she drew nearer to the door, she felt herself intertwining her fingers to distract herself. But at the doorframe, she had to release them, lowering her hands to smooth out her skirt before she took the first step inside, where she had never been before.

Immediately, a rush of hot air hit her. Compared to outside, it was like night and day; whereas one was calm and cool, the other active and warm. She tried to take in the sights and sounds, but it seemed to be much more than she could handle at first. Being outside of the gym to watch was obviously quite different from actually stepping inside, she realized. 

She didn’t have to wait too long, though. Standing still in place, too overwhelmed to take a step, Kiyoko made no move other than to blink. But Sawamura found her quickly enough, and trotted over with a ball beneath one arm. He was covered in sweat and panting, having rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders in an effort to cool off. Kiyoko was surprised, but could only imagine the amount of energy he had used up if he was doing the same practice as she had seen him do yesterday. In one glance around the gym, it seemed that everyone was moving in some sort of highly taxing way – when they paused to glance at her with curious looks on their faces, she saw that they were all panting and sweaty.

“Shimizu-san, thank you for coming,” Sawamura made to grin, despite the fact that he was breathing quite heavily.

Kiyoko nodded her head once. She was never the type of person to speak much, and when she did, it was only briefly. Her thoughts stayed just that – thoughts – and didn’t often turn themselves into words or conversations. She was shy, and had never really been interested in chatting too much. Perhaps that was the reason why she hadn’t been able to make many friends on her track and field team, despite the kindness she was shown from the other team members. She was simply a quiet, reserved person, and maybe that didn’t meld well with the rest of the group.

Sawamura, taking the nod for the only answer that she would give him, started to turn his head back to the gym. In a voice that Kiyoko never would’ve expected him to be able to project, he called out to the rest of the players and asked them if they could gather for a moment. 

They came in quickly, some chatting with each other and others trying to wipe the sweat from their brows with the hems of their shirts. All still panted, Kiyoko noticed, and all seemed to be looking at her. She had figured that Sawamura might have already told them, otherwise it would be unexpected for her to appear and introduce herself, but the way that some of them looked at her still seemed intimidating. While some eyes were trained narrowly and deeply into her, others smiled mischievously, and some seemed to look right through her even still. She tried to look at the players faces, instead, thinking that she hadn’t recognized more than Sawamura and two others who were also first years.

“Uhm,” she tried to start, finding it difficult to project her voice. She had never been met with this kind of situation before, other than when introducing herself to her track and field team. Then, they were all girls, and none were quite as tall or intimidating as the volleyball team was. “My name is Shimizu Kiyoko. I’m a first year in Class 3, and I’d like to be the boys’ volleyball club team manager.”

Her eyes trailed to the side. Sawamura, the only familiar face and name she could place to a person, had joined the rest of his team in their huddle. He smiled at her with encouragement, and she looked to the floor instead.

“I have no experience as a manager, and I don’t know much about volleyball,” Kiyoko stated, her eyes still trained to the gym floor. The more time she spent standing alone, trying to introduce herself, the more embarrassed she felt. So with a quick bow, she tried to finish, “Please take care of me.”

The team remained silent for what felt like an eternity. Kiyoko was afraid to look up, fearing now that she had said something incorrect. She had only spoken the truth, but maybe the team was looking for something else. She felt as though they were judging her, until one – the same one she had presumed was the captain yesterday – counted to three. On the last number, the entire group bowed deeply to her.

“Please take care of us!”

Kiyoko took a step back in surprise, feeling her eyes grow wide. She was at a loss for words, until the captain stepped forward and began to thank her, introducing himself and the teammates one by one. For each, she bowed and made a mental note to try to remember their name. She did recognize the first years after all, as she thought she had seen them about in the hallways during breaktime. The tall one with brown hair was Azumane, and she learned that he played the wing spiker position. The other, shorter and with silver hair, was Sugawara, a setter. She admitted to both that she didn’t know what their positions meant, but that she would research them as soon as she could.

After having passed the introductions, she had to excuse herself to return home. Her mind reeled with everything she had been given, and she began to make another mental list in her head. Beyond her own studies, she would also have to work hard to learn enough about volleyball to understand what the players were talking about. She considered that she might need a new notebook for such, and maybe she should watch an official match to understand the game beyond what she had seen during their practices.   
Kiyoko walked past the school gate with a new feeling spilling through her. It might have been a similar feeling to the one she had had when she first started high school: a warmth and hope for new beginnings, for new memories, and for new experiences. Something about signing up for the volleyball team felt like a turning point. Kiyoko had stepped out of her comfort zone to sign up, mostly on a whim of what she had seen and read about, but that was something she had never done before and she wondered why now she had changed. 

Regardless of the undefinable feeling growing within her, Kiyoko pressed on. It was a new beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how late it took me to update, and for how short this chapter might read. I'm considering starting another fic soon, since my fall break is approaching, but I'm not sure yet! In the mean time, please enjoy this brief bit.

“Shimizu-san, have you ever seen a real game before?” Daichi sat himself beside her on the gym bench, feeling himself smile when she immediately passed him a towel to dab away the sweat at his forehead. She was very caring, and always seemed to look out for the players, he thought.

Their newest member had adapted quickly into her role as the manager, surprising him and even their own captain. There had been a day after practice where the third year, who was much respected by the rest of the team even though he was a relatively kind and down-to-earth person, had frightened Daichi when he asked to speak with him. He had thanked him personally for making the effort to look for a manager after hearing that the team didn’t have one, and tried to express his gratefulness that it was Shimizu-san who he had asked. In the captain’s eyes, she was doing quite well. Any other individual might have left as soon as she realized what the manager position actually entailed for her.

To be frank, Daichi had never expected her to agree to the position. She was not the first person he asked, and not the last, either. After she had said no the first time, he mostly forgot about her – what little he could, anyways – and tried to move onto other students who might sign up. 

She was already very popular, whether she knew so or not. Daichi had heard many of his classroom friends talking about her: the super cute girl from Class 3. He had seriously doubted them at the time, given that most of their chatter about her seemed like lies. One said she was so beautiful that he nearly fell to his knees before her, while others said they were paralyzed by the smell of her shampoo when she pushed her hair back behind an ear. Above all, everyone seemed to agree that the beauty mark beneath her mouth was her key point, though they argued whether it made her look more sexy or cute. Daichi wasn’t the type of person to join in on that conversation, but he had certainly heard enough and had told them flatly that they all sounded like liars. There was no way one girl could be everything they had said she was, especially since he had never seen the girl himself to trust them.

When he did, though, he could immediately tell that she was the one they had been talking about. From afar, she looked like another normal student in her uniform, but when he had approached her, thinking that she was just a first year student, he was shocked. Her hair was thick, black, and beautiful. The way she wore it in pigtails made her look extra cute, too, when she would turn and they might swing around with her. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, and when he had connected with them he nearly had to take a step back to avoid the shock. They were a crisp grey-blue, which complimented her hair and her light complexion, giving her a more mature gaze. Behind the thin frames of her glasses, they seemed to pierce no less strong. Her eyelashes were naturally dark and long, accentuating her eyes even further. It was as if Daichi could feel her freezing him in place with one look.

She had a strong presence during their first meeting, poised and completely in control of herself. Daichi didn’t want to admit it at the time, but having asked nearly all of the first year class at school had made him desperate and lowered his hopes of ever finding a manager for their team. Refusal after refusal had diffused his initial excitement to help their club, and by the time he had asked Shimizu-san he was well accustomed to the answer no. In fact, it was nearly a last resort to ask her, since she appeared to be the least likely person to accept the role. And when she did decline him, he couldn’t feel upset over it. He had expected as much, but at this point had spent so long searching he would feel embarrassed if he couldn’t return with someone.

When she had come back to accept, that was one of the surprises that had left him in questioning for the rest of the evening after practice and on though most of the night. He truly didn’t see her as someone who would easily change her mind, but since he didn’t know her very well, he couldn’t say for certain. Something must have changed her mind, but he couldn’t fathom what. Even after texting the other first year students, Sugawara and Azumane, he hadn’t found a clear answer. He had wondered why she said yes, but because they finally had a manager, he didn’t want to risk asking her why. After all, they weren’t personally close in any way – she had only been coming to a few practices per week at first, and spending more time with the coach or their captain, who would patiently teach her the rules of the game she needed to know.

Still, whenever possible, Daichi tried to chat with her. He figured it might be uncomfortable at first, for someone with no knowledge of the sport to suddenly be thrown into a demanding role as a team manager. In addition, she was the only female of the group. Some of the upperclassmen had girlfriends that they would mention, but even so, some days the conversation in their club room would revert to her while they changed. She was undoubtedly very pretty, and probably single, but if she had known that the players talked about her in private she might feel more uncomfortable around them. In that case, it was important that he show some solidarity with her. He, too, agreed with the chat about her appearance, but Daichi was never the type of person to instigate anything. He was more nervous around her than anything else, let alone able to even consider trying to flirt with her. 

His conversation skills were poor, too, and perhaps that was part of the reason that they never spoke for very long. Sometimes he would offer to help her with some of the smaller tasks at practice, like folding jerseys or filling water bottles. Their chatting might start with what they were doing for their classes and which teachers they thought were interesting, but would usually stale into silence. She was a quiet person by nature, he had learned, so his inability to make an interesting chat didn’t really matter at all. In fact, it was Sugawara who was typically better at communicating with her, and Azumane who she willingly spoke to the most.

As he thought of them, Sugawara seemingly appeared to trot towards the bench, accepting the same treatment from Shimizu-san when she handed him a towel for his sweat.

“Ah, yeah, have you ever seen a real match before?” he repeated Daichi’s question, albeit a bit more casually and with a friendlier smile. Apparently he had overheard and thought it was interesting enough to join in. Sugawara was possibly the most charismatic of the first years, which Daichi didn’t mind. It seemed like Shimizu-san responded well to him, anyways, which gave him some relief. At least she wouldn’t feel completely overwhelmed with someone like him nearby.

Shimizu-san lowered her eyes to think, her pigtails slipping over her shoulders like beautiful dark waterfalls. Finally, she raised her eyes, and answered, “No… only your practices here.”

“We’re not very good, though,” Sugawara lifted his hand to scratch sheepishly at the back of his neck.

“An official match is more interesting,” Daichi agreed with a nod, popping his water bottle open and taking a long draw of water to help cool off. “Although it seems like they play really fast.”

Shimizu-san tilted her head to the side and gave him a look that suggested she was mildly confused by what he meant by ‘playing really fast.’ He would understand, though, given that she had only ever watched their team play in practice matches. They were nothing like what an actual match felt like, when the intensity and energy were at all-time highs and it was more important to be fast.

“We should go!” Sugawara exclaimed. “Hey, Shimizu-san, it might help if you want to learn more!”

Daichi glanced at her, judging her response. Her lips had pursed at the suggestion, considering it quietly. He watched as her hands kept busy, twisting a loose towel, then folding and unfolding it absentmindedly. In the brief time he had known her, he realized that she would often purse her lips in thought, or trail her eyes to the floor. Sometimes, it was rather cute, he thought -- her beauty mark would move when her lips pinched together, and when she lowered her eyes he could notice how long her eyelashes were. And in that time, he also didn’t feel as if her eyes were piercing through him with the quiet force they usually had. Instead of being intimidating, Shimizu-san’s “thoughtful face” was rather girlish.

For a moment, she remained quiet, until she managed to provide an answer. It was quiet and concise, as she normally was, but he could still tell she was interested in the way she said, “I think it would help, too. Is there one soon?”

Perhaps it was the fact that she had actually agreed, since she so often otherwise confused Daichi. He had yet to understand how her mind worked, and whether or not she was enjoying herself as their manager, because she was always so quiet and distant from the others. It made him question himself more than he was accustomed to, since he also worried about her enjoyment. Hopefully she wasn’t supporting the club out of necessity or because she had promised to. He wanted her to find the same curiosity in the sport as he had when he had begun to play in his middle school years.

But she had said yes, so she might have at least been a bit interested, he surmised.

Sugawara gave him a strong clap on the back, and the sound made Shimizu-san jump with surprise. “That’s great! I heard there was one this weekend in Sendai, right Daichi? You’re the one who’s always reading those volleyball blogs…”

He felt himself grow red on the spot, and quickly blinked to dispel the embarrassment. It was true that he liked to read independent volleyball blogs on his phone when he had time. Namely during the night, before he fell asleep, he would log on to read some of the newest content and stories. They were always more informative than what he heard from his own teammates, who more frequently talked about their classes and girls than they actually did volleyball. If they ever did, it was typically something related to their own team, or the intense training regimens their coach imposed on them. Daichi quickly realized that he would have to find another source for his volleyball news, and blogs were more convenient than waiting for the Volleyball Monthly magazine to be published. 

At this point, it had become a habit to read about these blogs, but he didn’t think it was weird until Sugawara had actually mentioned it to someone else. He immediately regretting sharing as much with the other first years, if he had known it would have been used against him to make him seem like a homebody nerd obsessed with volleyball. It wasn’t that unusual, he thought, but the way that Sugawara seemed to grin at him forced him to think otherwise.

“Ah, well… I think I read about there being a match, yeah,” he quickly gathered his composure, although he knew he would never admit to being an avid blog reader. “It’s a local team, though, so nothing special… but they’re having it in the recreation center in Sendai, and it’s open to the public.”

“Great! Do you have time this weekend, Shimizu-san?”

“I should…” her voice seemed to trail off, as her eyes widened and she immediately began to fish into her jersey pockets for something. In an instant, she had pulled out a small phone, and opened it delicately in her hands. “Can you text me the details? I know we haven’t exchanged numbers or e-mails, but…”

Daichi gave a nervous grin, and shook his hands at her to pause her worries. Truthfully, he hadn’t been sure whether or not it was appropriate to ask. He was certain that she had his captain’s contact information, but probably nobody else’s. In fact, if he recalled properly, she had turned down a few of the players who had seemed very intent on drawing her number out. With that in mind, he had avoided asking, not knowing where he placed on that scale between the captain and his teammates. He had never made an approach towards her, but he also didn’t speak to her as much as their captain did when making certain requests of her. It seemed most appropriate to simply speak to her when it was most convenient -- during practice. He didn’t have any need to contact her outside of their respective positions in the team, so connecting with her outside of their practice sessions didn’t make much sense.

But as she opened her phone, he found himself struggling to remember the digits to his own number. Daichi was at a loss for the number, he realized, although when he had given it to the other team members and some of his own classmates he had remembered well enough. Something about Shimizu-san’s gaze, as it turned to him expectantly, made him lose his place. He apologized profusely, waited until Sugawara could offer his phone number to her, and then when the numbers came back he told her his own, with a promise that he would send them both a message with the information when he got home that night.

…

The weather was still warm when Daichi approached the Sendai recreation center, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his hoodie to fidget quietly. It was still too early in the year for the rainy season to come and disrupt anyone’s travel plans, but he was used to wearing more layers. In comparison, when Sugawara arrived with a bright smile and slightly flushed cheeks, Daichi felt a bit overdressed. He wore a plain t-shirt, his hoodie, and a pair of longer pants, although the weather was nice enough that he could have followed along suit with the other first year and opted for simply the t-shirt and shorts. But the match was indoors, he told himself, and he would be lucky to wear long pants in case it became colder inside.

Azumane had been invited some time between the last team practice they had and today, although the way he had approached his teammates made him look as if he wasn’t wanted. His head was dropped down low, shoulders slightly hunched over, and he shuffled his feet quickly to come closer. He almost knocked into the two of them by the time he reached them, his eyes lowered down to the floor such that he seemed like he could barely see a thing.

Daichi had worried he might end up hurting himself the way he walked, certainly if they tried to walk into the center and Azumane’s eyes were nearly closed. It seemed busy enough for a smaller match, and Daichi was at least glad to see that it didn’t look like they had come too early. Some were already going inside, while others like them continued to stand out front and enjoy the air. If Azumane tried to look down in this kind of place, he would probably bump into people, and that would cause more harm than necessary. Sugawara must have sensed as much too, because he gave Azumane a teasing punch to the gut and began to loosen him up with light taunts and more slaps to his back. 

Realizing that it was out of his control to help – or rather, he didn’t want to be at the end of Sugawara’s slaps himself – Daichi turned his eyes once again to the center. It was at least four stories tall, and he had read online that there was a pool house attached to the main building. In itself, the center was quite large. He imagined that it probably housed workout rooms, classes for karate and dancing and exercise groups, a running track, a weight room, and a large multi-purpose court. He’d never been to an official center to practice his volleyball, so he wasn’t sure what to expect of this court. It might be the same as the ones from his middle school, that served for both volleyball and basketball practices and accordingly had the right equipment available. Daichi also considered that it may be completely different, and given the match today, that there were separate gyms for separate sports. Perhaps volleyball was so popular here that the center needed to separate it from the basketball court, and while today’s match played on, others might be playing basketball just next door.

He turned back from the building to watch Azumane and Sugawara, luckily calming down. Azumane still seemed a bit tense, but less so than before, so the punching might have made some progress. Daichi felt his shoulders relax, until in the distance he could spot a soft figure approaching.

Shimizu-san was the last to arrive, but she wasn’t late. They had agreed upon three o’clock, but many had come earlier, simply to scope out the building. Daichi had never been around or inside it, and he learned that none of the others had, either. Therefore, they all might have had similar ideas to come early to look at it, fantasizing about what it would feel like to play in a stadium larger than the gym they currently practiced in. While waiting for Shimizu-san, he had discussed it with the others – what it might feel like to play on a larger court. Even as a first year, Azumane was already being groomed to be a regular, while both he and Sugawara were considered more as back-up players. Throughout most of their practices, they spent time honing their skills rather than playing with the typical game line-up or working in a team match. It was alright, Daichi supposed, but when he watched Azumane play with the upperclassmen, something tugged deep within him and urged him to play, too. He also wanted to be a part of that team, but it seemed like for their first official matches it might be Azumane on the court instead of him.

Shimizu-san was like a ghost when she approached, until a soft “hello” made he and the others respond. A mumbling of her name went about, as each took the chance to bow and greet her in return. Daichi realized that he wasn’t the only one feeling his cheeks burn, as he turned and could see both Sugawara and Azumane begin to turn pink in the face. 

She wasn’t wearing her characteristic pigtails today, which was something Daichi had never seen before. Her dark black hair was loose and flowed freely, a stark contrast against the pure white of her blouse and the deep red of her skirt. It framed her face nicely and accented all of the features she was famous for. Her complexion looked bright and radiant, her nose a bit sharper, her lips soft and blushed with pink, and her beauty mark even more noticeable. She seemed effortlessly beautiful, although the only change was the way that she had worn her hair. 

The four first years stood together quietly for a moment, each at a loss for what to say next. Although they had given their polite hellos, each of the boys was just as dumbfounded as the next, Daichi realized. He took a moment to clear his throat gruffly, and suggested, “Should we go inside? We can get good seats since we’re a bit early.”

“That sounds good,” Shimizu-san agreed, and Sugawara and Azumane nodded their heads as well. With an unsure first step forward, Daichi led the way towards the entrance.

…

The first set had gone by quite quickly, which Daichi had explained to Shimizu-san might be normal. Usually, one team is always at a higher level than the other, and quickly performs well in at first. It’s not until the second set that the lesser team manages to understand how they can best react to their opponent. The more experienced team might show a sign of weakness sometime within the first match, which allows the opposite team to spend the break in between sets preparing for their reclamation of the court.

Just as he had predicted, the team who had suffered in the first set was now steadily gaining momentum. They were quite close with their opponents, nearly always within a one- or two-point difference. In comparison to the first set, there was much more action now, and Shimizu-san’s eyes seemed to light up with wordless questions. She never asked them, but often times she didn’t need to. Both Daichi and Sugawara were quick to explain things that might seem difficult, like the blocking and serve types. At one point even Azumane had to speak up to explain the difference between a straight and a cross spike.

Daichi worried that they might be overwhelming Shimizu-san with explanations, but every time someone made a comment, she nodded in silent understanding. Sometimes, she might even reference something they had said before, which surprised them all, but he was glad that she was able to make sense of what was said. Even though he already knew the rules of volleyball, just listening to Sugawara try to explain to someone with no experience whatsoever made him cringe and send out a silent apology to Shimizu-san. None of them had ever had to teach volleyball to someone before. Normally, it was their coach or their captain who was better at explaining than they were. Still, Daichi made his best effort to be clear, and Shimizu-san’s nods and sharp-witted reactions assured him that he wasn’t doing terribly.

As the second set came to its close, with both teams barely above the twenty-point mark, Shimizu-san became a bit more talkative. Throughout the entire match, she had kept to herself, absorbing all of the knowledge she had received from the first years and keeping it well-nested between a hard exterior. In fact, Daichi hadn’t even been aware that she was remembering everything that they said, given the way that her eyes had been trained to the court the entire time. She only paused to look at them for clarity on an explanation, but just as soon as she had understood her eyes turned back to the game. Any nod of comprehension she gave was done with her gaze directed towards the court, as she hid any semblance of paying attention to them.

Despite that, at some point during the second set she had announced that she thought the first team would win the match, and Sugawara began to pipe up to question her.

“Eh? What do you mean, they’ll win? That other team has been keeping up every point difference!” he exclaimed.

Shimizu-san answered quickly, “Their setter is getting tired, and so is their ace.”

“They’ve been doing so well, though,” Sugawara stated, placing his hands firmly on his hips. “If they can’t get a two point lead, then they’ll have to go past the twenty-five point mark and keep playing until one wins over the other.”

“Shimizu-san, how can you tell they’re tired?” Daichi asked curiously. From his perspective, both of those players looked relatively alright. Perhaps they were starting to slow down, but so was the other team, and neither had called for a time out since they were at fifteen points. Understandably, they might be a bit tired at this point, but it didn’t seem like it had a strong impact on the outcome of the game.

“Well, I might be wrong,” again, she pursed her lips, and Daichi could feel himself staring. “But it seems like the setter isn’t jumping as high, and he’s using the players closer to toss to. It’s like he doesn’t want to toss to the ends of the court as much.”

“That could be a choice, though. He may want to vary his attacks so the other team won’t immediately go to block the sides of the court.”

“Maybe so, but it just seems unusual.”

Azumane had been rather quiet the entire time, other than when he was required to help explain something to Shimizu-san. But he seemed to pick his shoulders up a bit, and turned to face her nervously. He scratched at his temple – a telltale sign that he wasn’t sure what he was about to say was alright. 

“Ah… why do you think the ace is tired?”

Shimizu-san paused, and pursed her lips once more. Her gaze finally broke from the court, and moved to the three of them. Daichi felt a shiver run down his spine. She looked more serious than ever, with a determined look in her eye and a focus that seemed like it could burn through steel. But in contrast to her expression, when she spoke she sounded light and firm. Her volume was low, but her words punctual.

“Azumane-san, when you’re tired, do you hit more straights or crosses?” she asked.

He thought for a moment, then answered, “I suppose I hit more straights. The crosses take more energy because you have to make sure that when you spike the ball it won’t hit outside of the court. They’re pretty hard to do.”

“That’s what this ace has been doing,” her eyes returned to the court, though she continued to speak. “He’s hitting more straights. I figured that crosses were harder, so by hitting more straights he’s trying to conserve his energy.”

It seemed like a thoughtful enough analysis, Daichi thought. He was surprised at her attention to detail, but even more so surprised that she was able to deduce as much from their playing styles in just one match. It was only her first match, but she had taken to heart every explanation that they had given her, and was able to guess the fate of the game.

He gave a short chuckle, and grinned at Sugawara, “Then we’ll have to wait and see if Shimizu-san is actually right. I can’t tell who’s going to win now myself.”

…

But just as she had expected, the first team won the second set, too, ending the match earlier than Daichi had anticipated. As the group began to leave the center, discussing some of the more interesting plays that had been pulled off, Daichi tried to give Shimizu-san a congratulations for her insightful predictions. It was surprising to see how quickly she had been able to learn and been able to apply the new information to the game in front of her. Even he himself didn’t predict the outcome, although he had seen and read about matches more often than he imagined she did. Perhaps he was just afraid to immediately state the outcome of the game. Sometimes that ruined the fun of watching the match, if one knew exactly what was supposed to happen by the end. If he had wanted, he might have been able to draw the same conclusion given the state of their setter and ace, but he had held back to enjoy watching a bit longer. 

It was the same during a match, where it might have looked bad. He realized he wouldn’t want to commit himself to an ending just yet, since something unexpected happening was always possible. He recalled a few national matches where just as much had occurred – a star player’s untimely injury, or a particularly successful rally of service aces, or even a strong substitute sent in during the most stressful part of the game. 

The group had reached the bus stop, where they would all ride the bus back together to Sendai. Sugawara had opened up more to their new manager and was excitedly chatting with she and Azumane. Daichi faltered for a moment, feeling something uncomfortable in his gut. Was it the thought of playing in an official match, or something else, he wondered, and frowned quietly.

“Sawamura-san, is everything alright?” Shimizu-san’s voice brought him back, blinking away the confusion.

“Oh, um,” he stumbled over his own words, trying to remember where he had been before. “I’m alright. I just— I realized that my family needed me to pick something up while I was in Sendai.”

“Really?” Sugawara quipped, turning his head to the side as if he hadn’t thought it believable. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

Daichi responded, “I forgot until just now. Sorry. You guys should go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Shimizu-san’s eyes had widened a bit, and Daichi felt bad that he might have worried her unnecessarily.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright. Thank you all for coming,” he bowed low, and watched as they all bowed politely back to him. “I’ll see you guys later. Get home safe!”

“You too,” Sugawara responded, and both Shimizu-san and Azumane nodded their heads in agreement.

“I will.”

As he began to turn and walk away, the clenching feeling in his gut gripped him even tighter, and he began to take longer, faster steps onward.


End file.
